


Only Canvas

by younoknowme93



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Severus Snape, M/M, Short, Smut, Top Harry, semi bittersweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 14:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12389904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/younoknowme93/pseuds/younoknowme93
Summary: Pretty much just Portrait Severus Snape/Harry Potter





	Only Canvas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JenTheSnarryShipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenTheSnarryShipper/gifts).



> Every time I post a story and I go to select the characters, when i type in Severus's name, it always gives the option for either him or his as a portrait... and as my ducklings know.. I took that as a challenge. Because I'm kinky like that. Onward my ducklings.

“Such a pretty frame.”

“Must you sound so lewd and deplorable.”  He asks.  His tone is as it always is.  Dominant.  Condescending.  But the real nature of our relationship is much more complex. 

“Show me your pretty hole.” 

“Potter reign in your vulgarity.”  He tisks.

“I’m sorry Severus.  Let me rephrase.  Open up that gaping cunt and show me how you stretch yourself.”  I can see him physically shutter.  He looks so pretty.  A pretty little painting.  That’s all he is.  A portrait.  No matter how deeply I desire to touch him, my fingers can only touch as far as the canvas.  We have mastered the art of verbal sex.

After the war… his death.  I spent the better part of a year wrestling with the causalities and death that haunted me.  I took up residence at Hogwarts.  Not doing anything except living.  That was when I re-met this man.   Though he was only a head-master for a short period of time, protocol dictated that he be prepped for a portrait for when he died.  And there he was one day.  The portrait complete and hanging there as if he had never left.  Like an old friend he broke me from my depression.  He woke me up with barbed comments and though we were never close before the war, we grew fond of each other quickly.

I had a frame made for my private bedroom.  One that he could enter into freely.  We started off simple enough.  As time grew, so did our perverse desire for one another.  He was dead.  Sure, I knew that.  But he was still living.  And I had realized that I loved him.  It was surprisingly easy to confess to him. 

“You too.  I want to watch you masturbate.”  I’m already pulling down my pants and stroking myself.  That hole.  I can never take him.  I can never feel his insides.  I stroke myself in time with him. 

He turned me down at first.  He insisted that this sort of relationship would only cause me heartache.  I told him he was right, but I wouldn’t trade it for all the happiness in the world.  That seemed to break him down.  I pressed my lips to the rough canvas.  That was our first kiss.  And still.  I wouldn’t trade that bittersweet feel for any other kiss in the world.

Both of us quickly desired more. 

He’s on his back with his legs wide to expose himself.  He’s wanting and needy.  In my head I know I can’t really touch him.

“Please.  Harry.  Touch me.  Rub against me.  Right here.”  He’s spreading his pale cheeks and I press against them.  Of course I only feel canvas.  But beyond that.  It’s him.  Like making love through a wall.  I can almost feel him.  I hump against him faster needing desperately to feel the soft skin of his supple ass.  And he’s moaning loud.  “More!” 

“Can you feel me?  Can you feel me pressing against your hole?”

“Yes.  Please.  Keep going.  It feels good!”  We both know that he can’t feel me nor I him.  But neither of us are willing to break the illusion. 

“I love you Severus.  Keep spreading those cute cheeks of yours.  I want to fuck you.  I want to make love to you.”

“Harry.  I’m almost.”

“Yes.  Me to love.  Just a bit more.  Please.  I want us to come together.”

“Harry.  Can’t.  I’m going to.  Oh.  Oh.  I’m sorry.  I’m going to ahhh!”  Watching him spurt hot seed onto his narrow sunken in stomach is what sends me over the edge.  For a moment I wonder why I don’t see my own seed dirtying his pale body.  But even as I come down from my high and pull away.  There it is.  My semen not going past the wall separating us.  He’s panting.  And so am I. 

“I’m sorry Severus.  I made you all dirty.”  I don’t think twice about bringing my tongue down to lap at the semen covering his hole.  Though I know he can’t actually feel it, his deflated erection twitches as he squirms against my tongue.  “You look so beautiful.  My pretty little painting.”

“Harry.  Your tongue.  Please stop.  I like feeling your cum dirty me.  Don’t clean it.”

“I have to Severus.  I would hate to stain you.”

“I wouldn’t mind being stained by you.”  He stands up and grinds his erection against the splatter of my cum.  “Now lick it up Harry.”  His cock tastes salty.  I don’t remind myself that I’m only tasting my own cum.  “Harry.  It feels good.”  I frantically lick faster.  I want to make him feel good.  I want to convince myself that he can actually feel me even if I can’t feel him.  My thumb follows the length of his erection and he shivers when I reach the tip.  I know he can’t last much longer so I’m not surprised when a well placed lick sends him into screaming fits.  When he settles down and his panting has mostly stopped he smiles at me.  “I love you.”  He sighs. 

I return his smile as I press my lips against his.  It doesn’t matter that all I can feel is canvas.  Because his face flushes in a clear blush and his fingers press against those thin lips of his.  “Severus.  Your lips taste delicious.”  He tilts his head and laughs.

“Well yours tastes salty.”  He licks his lips as if tasting them again.  “I never knew that a kiss could make me feel this warm.”  His hand presses against his chest.  “I know I’m not alive, but my heart is pounding.  I feel more alive now that I’m dead than before.”  He’s laughing lightly and it chases any doubts I could have away.  I press my palm against the canvas and he presses his against mine.  Between us is only canvas.  I think of before the war ended.  Lies.  Bitterness.  Maybe even hatred.  There was so much negative between us.  But it’s okay.  Because now there’s only canvas.


End file.
